Crash
by Madame Renard
Summary: What do you do when your love is entwined in her fingers while you are drowning in an ocean of your own forlorn tears? ShinigamixMabaa


The Grand Witch breathed deeply, savoring the fresh scent of the clean air. Daylight had fallen over the ruined abandoned castle that the witches used. She stood on the balcony connected to her quarters, smiling as the wind ruffled her cloak and robe and shifted her witch hat. She tilted her head, mind wandering.

"I think I'll visit Death City today."

Death City always made Mabaa happy. It was so open and free. People walked around, smiling and laughing, no worries shrouding their human minds. After all, what did they have to worry about in a city protected by the Grim Reaper himself?

Mabaa received many stares when in her witch outfit. After all, witches were considering evil, demonic, destructive...the list goes on. But as much as Mabaa tried, she couldn't part with her witch hat. She felt almost naked without it. So she just went in a more human form and hoped the humans would assume that she was just in a witch outfit and not an actual witch.

In her human form, the old witch had long graying blonde hair that curled like lightning down her back, with black boots under her safety-pin covered robe. She hadn't quite perfected her anti-aging spell, so she had a few minor wrinkles under her eye and on her cheek. The eyeless part of her face was covered in bandages with the numbers "1/2" painted on them.

As onlookers scowled or stared at her, she just ignored them and surveyed the sights, wondering if anything had changed since her last visit. While she was studying a fish stand, trying to remember if she had seen it before, something sharp and hard collided with the back of her head.

Rubbing off the pain, she glanced behind her to see a little boy with a glare plastered on his face, his arm bent in such a way that he appeared to just have thrown something. A stuffed animal resembling Death was clutched in his right arm. Mabaa glanced at the ground and spotted a small rock. She looked back up to see a woman pushing the boy away, shooting glares at her at the same time. Mabaa sighed. How on earth did Death get kids to like him so much? Even witch children were cautious of her.

Why did Mabaa, the Grand Witch, the leader of the witches, go to the city of the Grim Reaper, the one who was- and is still- hunting witches since the time he could fight? Why did she ignore the stares and walk off the pain from the stones? That was an easy question, if not an easy answer.

The Grand Witch was in love with the Grim Reaper.

Actually, she hated him at first. Of course, all witches are born with nothing but hatred for the Grim Reaper. But then they met. Something about him...something about the way he acted hardhearted and cruel, but cared so much for his men, the way he didn't shudder at her open wound when she unwrapped her bandages in hopes of scaring him, the way he didn't act as if she were disabled or permanently confused. He treated her with respect.

And she fell in love. What can you do?

She stopped as something caught her eye. It was a newspaper stand, carrying the local newspaper, the _Death City Times_. Figuring she might as well while she was here, she strolled over to the stand and picked up a newspaper offhandedly, intending to skim the headlines.

The newspaper fell from her grasp and slid to the pavement.

Mabaa's one good eye grew wide, her mouth slightly agape in shock. Her hands and body trembled.

_SHINIGAMI-SAMA'S WEDDING TODAY!_ the headline screamed, a picture of the black-haired, golden-eyed reaper with a blonde haired beauty in his arms laughing at her.

Her mind ran into overdrive, one part of it wanting to die and one part of it wanting to believe it was a lie. Her heart squeezed and tightened in her chest. Blindly, she reached down and carefully plucked the paper from the ground, scanning the article. She turned to the stand lady.

"Excuse me, can you give me directions to this place?" she asked, pointing to the name of the church in the article. She quickly snatched her witch hat and hid it behind her back, smiling nervously as the lady raised an eyebrow.

Slapping her witch hat back on, Mabaa took off in a sprint, the newspaper flying behind. The witch tried to focus on getting to the church rather than the reason why. Nevertheless, she could see the tears clouding her vision. She pushed past crowds of humans and rounded corners and jumped over trash cans in the alley, feeling younger than ever. She panted heavily as she ran through an alley, the darkness enveloping her.

She stopped when the alley opened into a brightly-lit city square. The witch leaned a hand against the wall, shoulders heaving with her short breaths as she stared at the white chapel across the square. Determination flooding her veins, she narrowed her eyes and pushed her limits, using the last of her strength to race across the sunlit square, her hat shielding her from the blinding sun.

She swung open the chapel doors with all her strength, throwing a simple spell at a man who asked her if she was a guest. She dashed across the great marble hall, her heels clacking against the cold stone. She wasn't thinking of anything. Her mind was blank; she only knew that she had to get to the wedding hall.

She clasped her hands against the stone door handle, pulling with what was left of her strength. Heaving the door open, she stood in front of it and finally opened her eyes.

In the middle of the beautifully white wedding hall, surrounded by all of the important and close friends and acquaintances, reflected with sakura petals flying in circles around them, there stood the lord of death, dressed tastefully in a clean skull-themed tuxedo, lips locked with the most beautiful mortal woman on the planet.

Mabaa stood in the doorway, her knees weak and trembling, about to give under her. The need to collapse and sob her only eye out took over her like fire. Her hands shook as they grasped the door frame, seeking balance. Her only eye was wide with shock and despair.

Her king parted with his lover for just a moment, glancing curiously at the door. His deep golden eyes narrowed in fury as he recognized the old witch. "Mabaa!" he spat.

Mabaa was still, motionless, frozen as the reaper softly instructed his new wife to stay here, safe while he slaughtered her in cold blood. Mabaa scoffed inwardly as the woman appeared frightened. Didn't she know that Death loved to threaten as morbidly as possible? Mabaa would have laughed and kissed him on the cheek and told him to have fun.

As Death turned to scowl at her, Mabaa finally pulled herself together, well aware of the danger that she put herself in. Slowly, she began to step back, step-by-step until she finally turned around with one last glance and took off. She was already exhausted by her trip here, but she pushed herself. If only she could get outside, into a closed off space so that people wouldn't report her the next time she would come here, and summon her broom. She shoved through the heavy doors and ran out into the open square.

While she knew she should be focusing on the reaper currently trying to wring her neck, she couldn't help but think back to the sight she saw. Her king was beautiful- his striped black bangs falling perfectly over his molten gold eyes and his muscles confined under his pinstripe black and white tuxedo. The bride was just as beautiful, her long flowing blonde hair falling over her shoulders and over his sparkling blue eyes. Her was not graying and there wasn't an imperfection on her flawless face. She had everything Mabaa didn't- beauty, youth...and the ability to bear an heir, most likely.

Tears slipped down Mabaa's cheeks, sliding down the skin and to the jaw, where they finally broke free and fell to the ground. The more she thought about that scene, the more tears streamed down. She couldn't focus; she was tripping and stumbling and trying her hardest not to sob and break down.

While Mabaa was slightly younger than that two thousand year old Grim Reaper, she was old by witch standards, and Death was more physically fit, thanks to his old expeditions. He caught up to her as they reached the middle of the square, grabbing her harshly by the wrist. A hand made of bones quickly grasped the clasp of her cloak, lifting her in the air effortlessly.

Shinigami growled lowly. It was disgusting to even have a witch in Death City, let alone at his wedding. "Why did you come?" he snarled, using the same deep tone of voice he used with her so many years ago.

He didn't get an answer. Instead, he felt the way her bony shoulders heaved, the way her thin, lean frame shook. He heard the soft, choked back sobs and quiet sniffles. He saw a lone tear make its way past the low brim of her hat, resting at her jaw as if to comfort her.

He narrowed his eyes. When he confronted her back then, she was a very straightforward woman, preferring to fight instead of sneak around and play tricks. He admired her for her courage and strength. Why would she be faking tears now? Surely, they hadn't changed that much (though Shinigami could disagree on his part). He tilted his head, leaning in to see the witch's face better.

"Mabaa?" he asked, confused.

The old witch's head shot up, her red eye glowing, illuminating her tear-streaked face. Before Shinigami could block or do anything of the sort, he was blasted away. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and vision as he glanced up. He could make out Mabaa flying away on her broomstick in the distance as the haze disappeared from his eyes. He had been right. Mabaa was one to fight, not one to cheat.

But why had she been crying?

Mabaa flew away, feeling the wind whip at her cloak and hat. She stole one last glance at her king, seeing him looking at her, utterly confused and lost on the ground as people started to gather and pull him away. He kept staring at her even as people took him by the arm and his wife embraced him. She forced herself to look away from him, letting her sobs and tears go wild as she felt the rush of leaving Death's soul.

Shinigami continued to watch her as she left, unsure of what to do or what to feel.

"Mabaa..." he murmured.

**A/N:** AHAHAHA! Bet you didn't expect THIS coming, did you? I have no idea why this pairing hasn't been done yet, it's absolutely adorable!

And, keep in mind, its the ONLY het pairing I support with Shini-sama XD I absolutely despise the idea of Shinigami getting married to A Nameless Beautiful Mortal/Witch Woman OC. I'm really sorry, but god! One, it's overused, two, it's so out of character! And then the thing that comes next is that he's SO EMO and OOC over the death of his Nameless Beautiful Mortal/Witch Woman OC (usually because Kid's birth killed her). There was only ONE fanfic I liked that hinted at this, but ONLY HINTED and actually gave the woman character instead of her just smiling all the time while she's giving a very bloody birth to Death the Kid.

God. Okay. Rant over. So this is sort of my 'Take That' to those sort of fanfics ;D And don't get me wrong, some of them can be very well-written, it's just the OOC of it all! Sorry, as a die-hard Shinigami fangirl it just rubs me the wrong way XD

Anyways. Yeah, Mabaa doesn't get a lot of love, from neither Ohkubo nor the fanbase. Sometimes- and I've only seen this one like three or so fanfics- they'll throw her in as the evil mastermind or something, but she's never really given character. Or a face(seriously, Ohkubo?). And there is zip fanart of her. I feel like she's only in _Soul Eater_ to give Free that eye and to give a leader to the witches. Too bad Ohkubo treats her like this old confused geezer. Sad face. But makes the much older Shinigami an awesome badass. Smiley face.

Oh, and if you're confused about the Death/Shinigami thing, Shinigami refers to himself as Shinigami (obviously) but Mabaa refers to him as Death (since that's how she knows him). As the POV shifts, you'll see Shinigami being referred to as the former or as the latter. Sorry if it was confusing x.x

First time trying OpenOffice :) Hopefully the formatting will work a little better :]


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